


if you said yes (i'd sell the treasures of the world)

by kameo_chan



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: First Meetings, Florist AU, Kise really needs his own tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kameo_chan/pseuds/kameo_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>These are the times that Ryouta wants to write sonnets dedicated to his and Kurokocchi’s awesome friendship</i> </p><p>Kise is a florist, Kasamatsu is enlisted with the JSDF and Kuroko is sick and tired of all the covert glances. The rest, as they say, is history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you said yes (i'd sell the treasures of the world)

**Author's Note:**

> Every fandom needs a cute florist shop AU. EVERY LAST ONE.

“He’s back,” Kurokocchi whispers from Ryouta’s left elbow when he hands him a bouquet of azaleas to add to the display shelf, and Ryouta very nearly falls off the step ladder. “That guy in the Defence Force uniform you always stare at.”

“Where?” he mouths; reaching out to catch himself in time to avoid breaking his neck.

“Three o’clock, pretend you’re looking for something – shears or ribbon or something.” These are the times that Ryouta wants to write sonnets dedicated to his and Kurokocchi’s awesome friendship, because if Kurokocchi hadn’t been there to make the suggestion, Ryouta probably would’ve made a terrible fool of himself. 

Instead, he leans back, twists slightly enough that he can catch sight of the subject of their rather covert discourse and play-acts looking for that most elusive of floristry tools: pruning shears. 

The subject in question is decked out in full uniform today – standard issue JSDF coveralls that make Ryouta’s throat go bone dry – loitering around at the back of the shop and looking as lost as usual. 

“Go talk to him,” Kurokocchi urges, nudging a foot against one of the stepladder’s legs. 

“What would I say?” Ryouta asks. But instead of the answer he’s expecting, Kurokocchi only smirks knowingly at him before voicing a terribly fake cry of, “Whoops, silly me!” And before Ryouta knows what’s up or down, the stepladder’s tumbling over and so is he, and why would he ever have wanted to write sonnets dedicated to their friendship, because evidently Kurokocchi is the _worst_ kind of friend in existence – 

“Whoa there,” comes a voice, followed by a set of arms that make Ryouta go beet red to very roots of his hair when they wrap around his middle like they were made to fit. “Are you okay?” 

When Ryouta looks up, it’s to find that Mr Defence Force’s concerned face is about a foot away from his own. “Yes, yes. Thank you,” he stammers out, heart pattering frantically in his chest. He catches sight of Kurokocchi hovering just past Mr Defence Force’s left shoulder, looking far too pleased with himself for his own good. It's difficult, but Kise manages to restrain himself from voicing a litany of loud (and ultimately empty) threats of bodily harm.

“No problem, but you really should be more careful.” Mr Defence Force says, eyeing the toppled stepladder with a displeased frown. 

“Clumsy me,” Ryouta says with a smile – the one Kagetora-san, the store’s proprietor, calls his patented lady-killer technique – all the while desperately fighting the urge to reach up and smooth out the grooves between those thick, furrowed eyebrows with the tip of a finger. 

Mr Defence Force looks taken aback for a moment, before helping to right him and giving him a cursory pat down. “To make sure you didn’t injure yourself,” he says, but Ryouta doesn’t miss the flush that colours his cheeks when he says it, or the way he won’t completely meet Ryouta’s eyes. 

“You’re always at the shop. Guess that means your girlfriend must really like flowers, huh?” Ryouta blurts then, apropos of nothing, and feels like kicking himself when Mr Defence Force pulls away from him with a startled look. From the corner of his eye, Ryouta spots Kurokocchi slapping a palm to his face. 

“I, uh,” he says, and then kind of deflates. “I don’t have one.” 

“Oh,” says Ryouta. “I’m sorry, is she your wife then?” Kurokocchi looks like he wants to tear his hair out, and honestly, Ryouta wants to join him, because it’s evident that his mouth has taken on a life of its own and is determined to actively ruin not only this moment, or even just the day, but _everything_. 

“No, I’m not married,” Mr Defence Force answers, fidgeting. 

“Then… Do you like flowers?” 

Once this is all over and done with and his shift is finally over, Ryouta is going to go drown himself in the nearest canal. Kurokocchi will most likely know what to do with his body once it’s over with, anyway. 

“Not really,” Mr Defence Force all but mutters. Ryouta’s not sure whether he’s imagining it or not, but it almost looks like he’s about to go apoplectic with frustration. It’s either that, or an indication of a serious lack of dietary fibre. 

“This is getting ridiculous,” Kurokocchi says then, startling Mr Defence Force something awful. “Please just ask each other out. Kise-kun, this is a business, not a mixer.” 

“Kurokocchi!” Ryouta splutters; at the same time that the tips of Mr Defence Force’s ears go a vivid, conspicuous shade of pink.

“The store room is free, and locks from both sides. I wouldn’t recommend any loud noises, however,” Kurokocchi continues flatly, and Ryouta is going to die – this kind of bad luck is usually reserved for people who have offended some kind of karmic law like insulting their in-laws or something – but then Mr Defence Force clears his throat and gives Ryouta a _look_ and _oh_. 

**Oh** , thinks Ryouta. **OH.**

“Maybe we could do coffee first?” Mr Defence Force asks, and Ryouta nods fervently because Kurokocchi is a saint, and those sonnets are getting printed in a leather-bound volume with the title embossed in gold leaf on the front. 

“Yes,” says Ryouta. “Coffee, yes. That sounds wonderful.” 

“Kasamatsu Yukio,” Mr Defence Force says, sticking out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.” 

“I’m Kise,” Ryouta replies, taking the proffered hand with a smile that feels like it’ll split his face in two. “Kise Ryouta. Please take good care of me, Kasamatsu-san.” 

Kasamatsu-san swallows hard, and nods like Ryouta’s just entrusted him with his life – which, maybe Ryouta, quite literally, has, come to think of it – and yup, he decides; that settles it once and for all. 

Leather-bound, gold leaf-embossed and dedicated to the best friend in the history of ever.

**Author's Note:**

> KasaKise is the keet of Kurobas ships. Seriously, how can anyone not love their interaction?


End file.
